When you need not to get lost in the life of the forest.
Do not stray from the only road that leads to home.
Half the world is at a crossroads, who wants to get lost, only to us - nothing like that.
Outwardly, with a map in your hands, with a backpack on your back, you can also use an external compass, because who knows: today there is navigation, and tomorrow - is there navigation?
Inwardly - by the light of the stars.
The heavenly ones are one thing, the human stars are another.
Not brand new, from the box.
Real.
Difficult, right?
It's hard for everyone.
As if you are breathing, and you open your mouth and your lungs pump, but there is not enough oxygen.
It lacks a base and support, an inner spine, a core - whatever.
And you have to rebuild yourself.
Pulling out from childhood, from films and books, from the music of a country that has gone into the past, and a country that exists today, bit by bit that valuable, from which heart hammers in the ears, from which, as if on a wave, raises - half of the world is visible.
Our half.
She has always been ours.
Pakhmutova was born in Stalingrad.
November 9, 1929
In the city of Stalin.
Dobronravov was born in Leningrad.
November 22, 1928
In the city of Lenin.
Parse the anthem into text and notes - there will be text and notes.
Together - an unstoppable force - one that has no equal.
The appearance of Pakhmutova and Dobronravov in our history is an absolute manifestation of that very unstoppable force, the fierce resistance of all the troubles and victories of ethnic groups united for centuries.
Resistance to what?
To the insane and scholastic semi-world, to that - beyond the borders of our Fatherland.
This is a stable concept - a creative union.
Stamp from the past?
Not...
Union is like the impossibility of not being together, like a predestined given to stand on your own, remaining a single whole, even if... Even if that's all.
And nothing more.
An unfamiliar star shines...
Only this alone is enough to feel inside that same celestial compass, that eternal light of the stars — they lead us.
Through the darkness of the unknown.
To whom are the words dedicated?
Cosmonauts.
Pilots.
People of military professions.
Who sings them?
Yes, the whole Fatherland sings.
It turns out - we understand where the real is, and where ...
It turns out - we know who are the heroes, and who ...
Likewise, the leaves fall in the gardens,
And somewhere all the taxis are in a hurry ...
On May 3, 1967, Pakhmutova and Dobronravov were visiting test pilot Georgy Mosolov, celebrating his birthday.
Gagarin called Mosolov, congratulated him, and talked a little about everything.
Then Yuri Alekseevich asked to call Pakhmutov to the phone:
“Alechka, I want to say that before the flight, Volodya Komarov asked me to convey gratitude to you and Kolya for the song“ Tenderness ”.
They were silent.
Understanding everything without words.
Komarov died nine days earlier: the parachute system failed, the descent vehicle crashed to the ground.
Only empty on Earth alone
Without you, and you
You fly and you
Give the stars
Your tenderness...
Their countless awards, and Pakhmutova with Dobronravov, and Gagarin with Komarov, and all those who, in a stream of unstoppable force, created and built an indestructible Fatherland, do not matter.
Do you understand?
All of them, like their iconostases on the chest, have long been dissolved in eternity.
They did what they could.
Connected dream and reality, notes and text.
They have long gone their way, and only we still live in the light of unthinkable, now impossible people-stars...
What about yourself?
And when yourself?
I heard the right words
I've been looking for the right path...
The fiercest fight.
For minds.
For generations not yet lost.
The time of confrontation, even if it is not light, against darkness — the plan of Life is opposed to the senselessness of self-destruction.
It is time for us to understand and accept: they are not.
Those who illuminate our days and our path - it is as if they do not exist.
And Pakhmutova and Dobronravov, as a true measure of both taste and spiritual value, are also in a dazzling past.
Although even now they are doing more than the impossible - they unite the armies of earth and heaven with their own eyes.
Strength and success to them.
And we?
What are we?
After all, we also need to leave the compass.
To those who come after us.
You just have to learn to wait
You have to be calm and stubborn...
Pakhmutova sings at her concerts (together with the children's choir) "The Homeless Song" - yes, that's exactly what it is called.
Let the sun shine somewhere
We have had to live in darkness.
We are homeless, homeless,
Strangers in their own country.
You should have seen the faces of the people in the hall.
But brothers and sisters, this is not a compass.
And even if it is he, then where can he come from?
How many meanings.
How scary in this abandoned, wooded library.
Flowing from the ceiling.
In dampness there are mountains of soaked books, if you want, you won't burn them.
And we still can’t get rid of the “heavy legacy”, we keep turning THAT songs and poems in our heads, THAT texts carved in granite.
We seemed to be split in two, disintegrated.
After all, here is the road, and you know where to go.
How much more time do we need?
How many more must leave those who, by the very fact of their being, light the way for us?
How much more do you need to repeat “Korolev”, “Gagarin”, “Pakhmutov”, “Dobronravov” - so that the circuits are bridged, so that it burns to the ground and in a clean and empty box one could finally start on a new installation? ..
Go to gallery page
My finishing ribbon
Everything will pass, and you will accept me.
Will you accept me now ...
We can't live without each other...
Stop trampling.
To overcome the ghouls - both in ourselves and in culture, to understand in accordance with the prophecies of the Strugatskys: now we, each of us, are that small stone in the infernal millstones that is the only thing capable of stopping them.
Isn't that enough?
Isn't it worth waking up for this, emerging from a dope - and living?
An unfamiliar star in the sky
Shines like a monument to hope...
There will be no other time, and there are no other times.
We ourselves must become both Pakhmutovs and Dobronravovs, and Gagarins and Korolevs.
And the Komarovs - because who cares, and it happens in different ways.
But we will leave the compass to those following us - serviceable.
And light - they will really need light, the light of the people of the stars - you and me.
Do you understand?
Such a piece of history.
So we got it.
We can't live without each other...
We can't live without each other...
The point of view of the author may not coincide with the position of the editors.